Monday Blues
by Rubber-duckiesofdoom
Summary: Ginny wakes up late and eats blueberries for breakfast it's monday and she's not having the best of luck... Join her as she digs herself into a bunch of really deep holes.


**A/N: I've been a horrible girl, I know. I've been feeding off other peoples' fanfiction, and have abandoned my own. Right now, I should've been studying for my Latin exam, but I felt I needed to apologize and write a little ficlette for y'all. Here you go!**

"_There's something about a Monday that tells you what the rest of your week is going to be like. Mine will be bad._" Ginny pondered as she dashed down to breakfast.

She had woken up half an hour later than she had planned for what seemed like the fiftieth day in a row (in truth, it had only been the fifth; however, detention has a way of drawing out and magnifying the problems in life). She cursed loudly and much to the protest of the portrait of an elderly nobleman hanging on her right as she fell through the vanishing step and felt her ankle crumple under her body. _"No time to go to the infirmary now; I'll just be even more late – anyhow, it's up those stairs I just fell through."_ she thought as she limped the last few corridors to the Great Hall.

Ginny heaved herself down on a bench next to some fellow with black hair (she didn't bother looking) and quickly shoved the food directly in front of her into her mouth…. and spit it out on the boy with a shriek; it was a blueberry muffin. Because you see, Ginny was a girl who loved muffins. Absolutely loved them. However, there was something about blueberry muffins that made her, well, need to spit them out.

The boy turned in surprise, wiping it off his shoulder. Oh. It was Harry. So, Ginny did whatever any normal girl would do – she squeaked, tried to run, tripped on her lame ankle, tumbled over (and gave Gryffindor and Ravenclaw a wonderful view of her turquoise thong), turned the color of her hair, and ran to her class.

When she arrived outside the door to the class, she was panting and her face had gone from red to pale; it was potions, and she knew Snape gave cruel punishments to latecomers. She paused to think of an excuse, and coming to a blank, she just hesitantly opened the door and snuck in. Except, after five seconds of creeping in the shadows, she realized there weren't any children, nor was there a teacher. Curiously, she went over to the chalkboard to look for instructions on a different meeting place, and came upon a calendar. Saturday was highlighted and flashing with a big red "TODAY" on it.

And thus, Ginny did the ideal thing to do in such a situation: scream bloody murder. Every single expletive she could think of, some she didn't know she knew, some she made up that sounded good, and then some words equally poisonous (including blueberry) escaped her mouth. Enter man with black, greasy hair and a robe that constantly billowed out theatrically. No, it wasn't Voldemort, nor was it Harry in one of his depressed moods – it was someone far scarier to catch her screaming in their classroom. It was Professor Severus Snape, who promptly put Ginny to work on scrubbing cauldrons, as he saw no reason to delay – after all, what else were Saturdays for besides putting children _obviously_ in pain into detention (as he saw it, he was simply stopping their suicides – so really, he was a hero).

* * *

Many disgusting cauldrons and a healing spell from the nurse later, Ginny dragged herself up one last staircase, infinitely glad it was almost the end of such a horrible day.

Of course, it wasn't the end yet. In fact, it is very lucky the author chose the word almost, because otherwise she would be lying to say it was the end. No, Ginny Weasley had one more problem to deal with.

Because on top of the stairs, glaring menacingly for no reason besides the extreme pleasure that came from it, was Draco Malfoy.

Now, Ginny knew this wasn't good. Her subconscious was screaming at her, but she really just didn't care anymore. Which was why Malfoy pushed her down the stairs – he was planning on cursing her to oblivion, but he could think of only primal ideas of revenge once he realized she didn't care about him.

Sadly for Malfoy, though, Ginny landed directly on top of a certain Harry Potter (who had changed his robes after the blueberry goo). In fact, in that landing, their lips happened to collide. Now, not only was she unharmed (the author will lie and say Harry Potter is made of steel and therefore didn't feel a teenage girl fall down long and steep stairs and knock his breath out – oh no, Harry was perfectly fine and spiffy), but she was rather content with her position.

"_Maybe I'll have a good week, after all." _was Ginny's last thought as she waved her thanks to Malfoy and kissed Harry again and wondered if that meant they were going out.


End file.
